Description: Seen through a child's eyes,
Jockey's Ridge State Park must look like the biggest sandbox in the world. To be sure, it's a wonderful playground; weather permitting, you'll see everything from sand castle-builders to kite-fliers to hang-gliders plying their trade here on any given day (not to mention kids of assorted sizes and ages screaming with delight as they slide down the tall dunes on their backsides).
Actually, the 414-acre Jockey's Ridge is the tallest natural sand dune system in the Eastern United States - just don't count on it to be the same the next time you see it. Shifting winds keep the sands here - estimated at more than 600,000 dump truck loads - in a constant state of flux, changing both the size and shape of the dunes. They never blow away entirely, though, because the winds from the Northeast and Southeast keep blowing it away and then back again.
The park encompasses three ecological environments: the dunes, maritime thicket, and the Roanoke Sound Estuary. A visitor center provides lots of background information, and a 384-foot, tree-lined boardwalk is laced with plaques that describe plants and animals found here. It ends with an observation deck and benches, gorgeous views of the dunes and direct access for those who decide to hoof it through the sand from there on (no vehicles allowed here, folks). There's also a 1.5-mile hiking trail that starts at the parking lot and traverses to the sound and back.
A word of caution: Park officials urge visitors to wear shoes. Personally, I think it's much more fun to tackle the dunes barefoot; but I
do suggest using common sense – in summer months, that sand can get extremely hot.
No vegetation grows on the dunes themselves, but around the base are grasses and small plants as well as insects and small animals. The maritime thicket contains oak trees, red cedar, bayberry, sweet gum and more, all protected from wind and salt blown in from the ocean by the tall dunes. Geologists think what is now Jockey's Ridge was formed when huge storms created currents strong enough to wash sand from offshore shoals onto the beach. Then, over many years, the winds blew it inland, eventually forming the dunes.
In previous years, I've parasailed as high as 900 feet above Roanoke Sound, prompting thoughts of hang-gliding off the dunes; you can sign up for lessons near the park office. One morning, I watched as others gave it their all. Wow, I said, that looks really cool. Then, I walked to the edge of the dune they'd just jumped off of and peeked down at the intended landing point.
And that was all she wrote. "Not in this lifetime," I muttered (what I really said was much more colorful, but you get the drift - no pun intended). As fast as I could given the soft, deep sand, I hightailed it out of there, never to mention hang-gliding again.
Till now.
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